Johnny "Lam" Jones wasn't a magician, but as a Lampasas High School senior, he performed an optical illusion 35 years ago that remains a vivid memory for those who saw him run.

"What he was doing was a visual lie. Humans just don't do that," said Art Lawler, a former sports writer for the Abilene Reporter-News who covered Jones during a two-month period in 1976 that catapulted him from being a good sprinter to legendary status.

"You just don't see someone run people down from 30 or 40 yards behind. Visually, you just can't comprehend it when you see someone come up that fast on all the others," Lawler said.

Starting with the Bluebonnet Relays in Brownwood in mid-March through the UIL state track meet in mid-May, Jones blazed a trail that left competitors feeling helpless, compelled unemotional sports writers to become cheerleaders, and prompted fans of all ages to pour out of the grandstands at the state track meet.

Along the way, Jones was timed in 9.05 seconds in the 100-yard dash and 20.7 in the 220 and routinely ran down other anchor runners to win the mile relay with 440-yard splits in the 45- to 46-second range. He also led Lampasas (population 7,000) to win the Class 3A state team championship.

By the final day of July — before he even enrolled at the University of Texas — Jones' remarkable track season peaked when he won a gold medal at the 1976 Montreal Olympics as a member of the U.S. 4x100-meter relay team. At age 18, he left for Montreal as the youngest athlete from Texas ever to earn a berth on the U.S. Olympic track and field team. He returned a few weeks later as an Olympic gold medalist and a national celebrity.

"Someone asked me years later what was my greatest memory of living in San Angelo and West Texas," said Frank Rudnicki, a former San Angelo Standard-Times sports writer who covered Jones in 1976. "Some people may think I'm crazy, but I said it was the year Johnny 'Lam' Jones ran those spectacular anchor legs in the mile relay at the San Angelo Relays and the state meet.

"They were legendary feats," said Rudnicki, who now works in a medical library in Houston.

It began in Brownwood

Johnny Jones wasn't a complete unknown before 1976. In football, he scored 45 touchdowns in two seasons and was selected all-state. He signed to play football at UT.

As a junior at Lampasas High in 1975, he won state in the 440-yard dash in 47.6 seconds.

After three track meets in 1976, the Lampasas 440 relay with Jones wasn't producing the times Badgers coach Scott Boyd had expected. Seeking another individual event for Jones to run instead of the 440 relay, Boyd decided to time his senior in a 100-yard sprint one day after practice.

"It was the week of the Brownwood meet, and Scott stepped off 100 yards on our dirt track," said Nancy Boyd, the widow of Scott Boyd, who died in 2003 at age 57. "Johnny didn't even have his running shoes on. It was just a 'ready, set, go' start.

"Scott wouldn't tell Johnny what he'd clocked him in (9.24 seconds). He shook his stopwatch and told Johnny to run it again. The second time, Scott showed Johnny the watch (which read 9.37). Johnny shook his head and said, 'Coach, you've got to get a new watch.' "

Boyd entered Jones in the 100, 440 and mile relay at the Bluebonnet Relays — and both their lives changed forever.

Within an hour's time in Brownwood, Jones won the long jump with a mark of 24 feet, inch; the 100 in 9.2; and the 440 in 47.8. Later, Jones gave the first of his legendary mile-relay anchor performances, turning a slight lead over Copperas Cove into a 30-yard bulge with a 45.8-second lap.

Lawler was so impressed he snapped a photo of Jones and submitted it to Sports Illustrated for consideration in its "Faces in the Crowd" page.

"It ran a couple of weeks later," Lawler said. "I got paid $25 for submitting it. A lot of sports writers claim to have discovered Johnny 'Lam,' but we gave him his first national publicity with the mention in Sports Illustrated."

Nancy Boyd, who often took girlfriends of the track athletes to out-of-town meets and still owns two scrapbooks filled with Jones' feats in 1976, said the Bluebonnet Relays marked the start of his statewide popularity.

"It was the beginning of his tremendous fan following, when his performances inspired perfect strangers to take time to send personal notes," said Boyd, who now lives in Decatur. "I have one from Wayne Turner in my scrapbook. He owned an office equipment company in Brownwood."

Turner wrote: "I usually don't get too excited by track meets except by those people that I know and am really rooting for — but Saturday, I got excited and so did the rest of the fans here in Brownwood. We count ourselves fortunate to have been able to see you perform the tremendous feats you did at the Bluebonnet Relays."

Two weeks later at the San Angelo Relays, Rudnicki saw Jones for the first time. He dropped the 440 in favor of the 220, and won it in 20.7. He also won the 100 in 9.5 and the long jump with a leap of 22-0 .

Then in the mile relay, Jones attracted more committed followers by erasing a 40-yard deficit and rallying Lampasas to a victory with a 46.5-second anchor lap. Lawler claims, and Rudnicki doesn't deny, that the Standard-Times writer was beating the windows in the San Angelo Stadium press box as Jones passed the final runners.

"The sound of the crowd during that mile relay was almost eerie," Rudnicki said. "It was a 'whoop' and it built to a crescendo, like a 'woooo.' It built as he got closer and closer and closer.

"I don't think San Angelo Stadium has ever had a reaction like that for a track meet."

Neither the Reporter-News nor the Standard-Times sold newspapers in Lampasas. But after Jones' back-to-back performances in Brownwood and San Angelo, Lawler and Rudnicki ignored circulation boundaries and covered Jones as if he were a local.

Jones added a 9.05 wind-aided time in the 100 to his growing resume at his district meet in Round Rock. Bud Kennedy, then a sports writer for the Austin American-Statesman and now a columnist for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, chronicled the growing fan hysteria.

"Women shrieked. Children squealed. Grown men jumped up and down " Kennedy wrote.

"The swell of the crowd at the finish line bent the top rail of the fence around the track," Nancy Boyd said. "Johnny couldn't believe his fame, but he signed autographs after the race. Kennedy's article first quoted Johnny as saying, 'Man, this is a trip.' "

The trip was just getting out of the starting blocks.

A state meet like no other

By the time the UIL state meet arrived in mid-May, Jones was the No. 1 attraction. His move to the 100 and 220 sprints attracted a new set of fans in a state that was, is and probably always will be fascinated by sprinters.

Also, Jones had run in meets from Fort Worth to Laredo to San Angelo. Stories of his erasing 30- and 40-yard deficits to win mile relay races had made their way around the state. Fans wanted to see the "visual lie" Lawler spoke of. They wanted to see this sleek, smooth sprinter who stood 6 feet tall, weighed 175 pounds and was so much faster than anyone else in Texas.

The state meet crowd was estimated somewhere between 20,000 and 25,000 — although if a statewide poll were conducted today, a million-plus would claim to have been there.

That Friday evening in Memorial Stadium on the University of Texas campus actually began with a couple of subpar races — at least by the lofty standards Jones had established. In 1976, each contestant was allowed one false start and wasn't disqualified until their second one. Almost all of the seven others in the 100 tried to get away with a rolling start against Jones. The multiple false starts ruined the chance of a record time, and Jones won in 9.4.

Later, Jones easily won the 220, and fans temporarily got excited when the scoreboard flashed an unofficial time of 20.66. Those same fans booed heartily when Jones' official time was announced at 21.0.

People were growing impatient by the time the mile relay, the final event, began. They were craving a superhuman feat.

By the time Mike Perkins, Tom Lancaster and Leon McClendon ran the first three laps of the Class 3A mile relay, Lampasas was mired in last place. Nancy Boyd said her husband later learned that most of the other coaches had moved their fastest runners to go earlier in the mile relay in an attempt to build an insurmountable lead.

The distance Jones trailed the leaders has grown through the years and remains open for debate.

"People say he was 50 yards behind, but I think it was more like 25," said James Blackwood, an assistant track coach at Texas who later helped coach Jones in college.

"I thought it was more like 40 yards," Rudnicki said.

Whatever it was, it was enough for Bill Hart, a former Abilene Reporter-News track and field expert, to start heading for the nearest exit.

"I was there just watching the state meet with my oldest son, Charlie," said Hart, who's now retired. "I told Charlie that he (Jones) was too far behind this time to catch up. I said, 'Let's get out of here.' We started down out of the stands to beat the traffic.

"Before we could get out, he passed the first two. I told my son, 'Let's stay here and see what happens.' "

As Jones passed another runner, the "whoop" and the "woooo" Rudnicki heard at the San Angelo Relays resurfaced. Only this time, it was much louder. Phil Ransopher, the former longtime state meet public address announcer, added to the drama, informing the crowd what place Jones was in each time he passed another runner.

By the final 50 yards, Jones was in third place and closing on the leaders.

In press boxes in the 1970s, there were strict rules about not cheering. Violators would be removed or ridiculed, or both. But even the most cynical journalists from the state's premier newspapers became swept up in the moment as Jones closed on the two lead runners.

"There wasn't an ounce of professionalism in the press box that night," Lawler said. "I maintained mine for the first 220. When the others started cheering, I did too. But I wasn't the first."

Rudnicki said, "A lot will deny this, but the press box went crazy. I hesitate to say they were cheering, but they were caught up in the emotion or the thrill. I'll just say there were audible sounds going on in the press box, and no one complained."

As Jones approached the final two runners, something happened that still baffles longtime track observers. The other anchors, instead of hugging the inside curve, had veered outside by a step or two.

Some say Jones ran inside them. Others say he ran between them. Either way, Jones passed both runners, winning the mile relay in dramatic fashion, as well as the 3A state team championship for Lampasas.

"I think because of the sound of the crowd, the two guys in front turned their heads to the outside to see what was happening. That caused them to drift that way, and Jones went inside them," Rudnicki said.

Lawler said, "It was like an act of God. It was like he parted the sea for Jones to run through. The gap appeared and he never broke stride. I think he ran between them.

"I'm telling you it was divine intervention. The good Lord came in there and said, 'Let's give these folks a show.' "

In the grandstands, Nancy Boyd had been so disheartened by the deficit Jones faced that she turned away.

"Then I heard the announcer. He's fifth fourth third," she recalled. "So I turned around and watched. The lead runners had gone wide down the homestretch. And then there was that moment, that split second, when in the blink of an eye, he darted past them with that unbelievable burst of speed.

"I wasn't really sure I saw what I really saw."

Seconds after Jones crossed the finish line, something else happened that hadn't happened before or since at the state meet. Fans climbed over the walls separating them from the athletes and poured onto the track toward Jones.

"They came out of the stands like you see in a lot of basketball games on TV these days," Rudnicki said. "It was such an impressive performance that people were thrilled by it. The emotion of the moment took over."

Security personnel got the crowed headed toward the awards stand, where Jones and his Lampasas teammates received their mile relay medals as well as their state championship team trophy.

"People went crazy," Blackwood said. "We had to get security to take the Lampasas kids to our (UT) dressing room until the crowd calmed down and thinned out."

Scott Boyd ran onto the track and found Jones in the crowd. His wife, sitting with the large contingent of Lampasas fans, remained in the grandstands.

"The few of us that didn't try to get onto the track stood there in bewilderment, watching this spectacle play out," Nancy Boyd said. "I wasn't able to get my arms around Johnny until much later under the stands, after the awards and the interviews were all over. I was still crying."

Texas track and field fans had their stunning moment. Their visual lie. Their sprint hero to embrace. Jones' anchor lap was timed in 45.5.

"It's the most dramatic moment I've seen in sports," said Lawler, now 66 and a 40-year newspaper veteran living in northeast Texas. "I've never seen anything that impressed me more. He ran so smooth, you could have put a cup of coffee on top of his head while he ran and he wouldn't have spilled a drop."

Olympic Homecoming

Johnny Jones' storybook track season of 1976 didn't end with his legendary performance at the state meet. In another act of either divine intervention or extremely good fortune, Jones' meteoric rise coincided with an Olympic year.

After the state meet, Jones would be required to run sprint races measured in meters to qualify for the U.S. Olympic Trials. The Texas high school races he had dominated were all measured in yards.

A couple of Lampasas businessmen headed fundraising committees and presented Scott Boyd a check for $3,500 to pay expenses for the coach and Jones to attend early summer meets in Atlanta; Eugene, Ore.; and Knoxville, Tenn. Jones won the 100 meters at two of those meets, and his time of 10.1 in Knoxville qualified him for the U.S. Olympic Trials.

Facing 40 of the nation's best sprinters — older and more experienced in high-level competition — Jones was given little chance of making the U.S. Olympic team. But he continued his surprising campaign, finishing fourth in the 100 meters final in 10.23 seconds. The fourth-place finish qualified him for a spot on the U.S. 4x100 relay team. He eventually was entered in the 100 meters as well since Houston McTear, who finished second at the U.S. Trials, was out of the Olympics because of an injury.

At the Montreal Olympics — the ones known for gymnast Nadia Comaneci's perfect 10, Bruce Jenner's decathlon victory and Sugar Ray Leonard's introduction to the American public — Jones' events were all that mattered to folks back home in Texas. He finished sixth in the 100 in 10.27.

A week later, in front of 70,000 spectators, he joined Harvey Glance, Millard Hampton and Steve Riddick on the Olympic gold-medal U.S. 4x100 relay team that set a world record with a time of 38.33 seconds.

Less than 24 hours later, on Aug. 1, 1976, Jones was due to arrive in a private plane back home in Lampasas. Rudnicki was there and witnessed something as unforgettable as the state meet.

"There might have been a grass runway there at the airport at the time. I can't remember for sure," Rudnicki said. "If there was one person there, there were 1,000. He got off the plane with Darrell Royal (the University of Texas football coach).

"Everybody was there from little grade-school kids to 80-year-old ladies, and they were all sweating in the hot sun in the middle of the summer.

"It was one of those scenes that was surreal — the anticipation of the conquering hero from a small town who was still an amateur athlete and had won a gold medal for his country. It was Americana at its best in a lot of ways. It was a scene that has since fallen by the wayside with the Olympics now, with all the professionalism and the top athletes all doing commercials for Disneyland," Rudnicki said.

From track to football at UT

Johnny Jones was a shy kid from a small town who didn't like crowds or public attention or media interviews. But the moment he stepped on the UT campus in Austin, he was an Olympic gold medalist and the fastest player in college football.

His freshman track season at Texas in 1977 was a continuation of noteworthy feats and growing fan following. At the Texas Relays, he won the 100 meters in 9.85 seconds, which would have been a world record if it hadn't been hand-timed. Even converted to automatic timing, Jones' 10.14 still ranks as the second-fastest 100 meters in UT history some 34 years later.

"People came to the Texas Relays — I'm talking about football fans — to see Lam Jones run, to see the icon on stage," Blackwood said. "He took track, as a sport, up a notch. I had parents calling me about wanting their sons to quit other sports and focus on track, all because of Lam Jones and what he was doing."

Jones' 1977 times of 9.21 for 100 yards and 20.14 for 220 yards set records for Memorial Stadium, which had hosted NCAA and Southwest Conference championship meets. Everyone wondered what Jones could run if he improved his start. Despite his smooth running style, he was notorious for being last out of the starting blocks.

Also in 1977, Jones won four events at the Southwest Conference meet — the 100, 220, 440 relay and mile relay. At the NCAA championships, Jones completed a grueling 16-month grind by finishing second in the 100 meters in 10.27. He later ran seventh in the 200 in 20.85, with track observers noting he looked worn out.

That was the last significant track performance anybody saw from Jones, who was nicknamed "Lam" for Lampasas to differentiate him from UT football teammate Johnny "Ham" Jones, who was from Hamlin.

In 1978, football injuries began to take a toll on his performances as a track sprinter. He ran a hand-timed 10.1 in the 100, and he won his first-round heat at the NCAA championships in 10.14. But he later failed to qualify for the NCAA final.

New UT football coach Fred Akers moved Jones from running back to receiver. Football was the sport where the money was, and Jones simply did what most multisport athletes do. He followed the money.

He averaged only 28 receptions per season as a receiver at Texas, but he averaged 18.9 yards per catch and scored 14 touchdowns. His big-play potential lured the New York Jets to trade two first-round draft picks to draft Jones No. 2 overall in 1980.

The Jets gave Jones a six-year, $2.1 million contract, an NFL-record salary at the time. In six pro football seasons, he averaged a modest 23 receptions for 387 yards and two touchdowns. Because of what the Jets traded to get him, Jones was regarded an NFL Draft bust.

Today, Jones admits he should have stayed with track, an opinion shared by Blackwood.

"He was a good football player, but I honestly believe he could have been as good as Carl Lewis if he had gone straight track," Blackwood said, referring to the nine-time U.S. Olympic gold medalist sprinter and long jumper. "He'd run a 9.9 and let up 10 yards from the finish line. He could have held the world record in the 100, 200 and 400. I believe he was that good."

Life and cancer after football

Life after football hasn't been kind to Jones. He battled alcohol and drug problems that began while with the Jets as a way to deal with the pressure of his fame, fortune and expectations. After being pushed to the brink, he reportedly has been sober since 1990.

Then in 2005, Jones was diagnosed with stage-four multiple myeloma, cancer of the plasma and bone marrow. While he was hospitalized, reports surfaced that he was near death. Royal and Blackwood paid visits to the hospital.

"It was such a tragedy to see him all shriveled up like that after knowing what a phenomenal physical talent he was," Blackwood said. "We didn't think he was going to make it."

It appears now, though, that divine intervention may again have touched Jones. Although his once-sleek 6-foot frame is 5-feet-9 and pudgier, the cancer reportedly is in remission. Now 53 years old, Jones is even helping raise money for a middle school student back home in Lampasas who was diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer.

It wouldn't be the first act of generosity displayed by Jones, who, while a student at UT, donated his Olympic gold medal to the Austin branch of the Texas Special Olympics.

Jones currently operates Lam Jones Sports and Marketing, a Round Rock-based company that includes motivational speaking and consulting for synthetic turf football fields and track surfaces. Jones apparently talks openly with students about his past problems, hoping to positively influence their lives.

He was inducted into the Texas High School Football Hall of Fame in 2008. Last month, he and his Lampasas mile relay teammates were recognized at the Texas Relays in Austin.

Jones has said he is often asked how it felt to win an Olympic gold medal. He consistently answers that it was almost as exciting as running at the Texas high school state meet and helping Lampasas win the state championship. The answer stuns outsiders, but not those who witnessed the impact Jones had on a sport and an entire state some 35 years ago.

"I like the way Johnny Lam made people lose their composure," Lawler said. "He made other runners who could feel him coming tighten up. He made crowds go nuts. He made sports writers who were supposed to sit there and never show an emotion stand up and start cheering."